Byng could not buy with any money those wonderful Adam's mantels, over-mantels and ceilings which had a glory quite their own.

There must, therefore, be an air of newness in the new mansion, which was too much in keeping with the new money, the gold as yet not worn smooth by handling, the staring, brand-new sovereigns looking like impostors.
As he came upon the great house, however, in the soft light of evening, he was conscious of no violence done to his artistic sense.

It was a big building, severely simple in design, yet with the rich grace, spacious solidity, and decorative relief of an Italian palace: compact, generous, traditionally genuine and wonderfully proportionate.
"Egad, Byng, you had a good architect--and good sense!" he said to himself.

"It's the real thing; and he did it before Jasmine came on the scene too." The outside of the house was Byng's, but the inside would, in the essentials, of course, be hers; and he would see what he would see.
When the door opened, it came to him instantly that the inside and outside were in harmony.

How complete was that harmony remained to be seen, but an apparently unstudied and delightful reticence was noticeable at once.